La Sagouine
by tec4cleveland
Summary: I write stories about Caje and his family before and after the war. It's been a trip exploring the Cajun culture - I've learned a lot and made a lot of friends. This story is framed by events happening in a small village in France, wrapped around a flashback by Caje about similar events from his childhood. complete French


**LA SAGOUINE**

**France, 1944**

The squad scuffled into one more village bombed into rubble.

Kirby looked around him and yawned widely. "Yep, just another French garden spot. I'll have to go to the drugstore and get Mom a postcard."

Littlejohn scowled. "Shut up, Kirby. Think how you'd like it if your home was destroyed and the people who were supposed to be the ones who made it better said things like that."

"Aah, they don't understand anyway."

"Like those guys in the last village who were about to beat you up when you insulted their café?" Doc inquired with mock innocence.

Caje let the discussion wash over him. Ignoring Kirby's more obnoxious remarks had become second habit for the Cajun scout. _If I got mad every time he was a wise guy, I wouldn't smile again for the duration of the war. By now, I'm used -_ He heard shouting ahead and pulled ahead of the others. The scout overcame his weariness and broke into a run when he realized what was happening.

"Stop that! Stop! _Arrêtez_!" Caje shouted with all his might at the milling townspeople hovering around the old woman.

He heard running footsteps behind him. "What is it, pal?" He knew without turning that it was Kirby. _Good. The BAR is a pretty effective argument settler even when he's not firing it._

"_Vous__m'écoutez__! __Arrêtez ce maintenant__!"_ He spoke to his buddy without turning his head. "They're beating up this old lady, Kirby! I'm not gonna let them do it!"

"All right! What's going on here?" Hanley's authoritative baritone caused the townspeople to stop briefly. "Caje?"

Caje used the temporary halt to push his way through the crowd and stand protectively between them and their victim. Without taking his eyes off the hostile people, he crouched by the old woman and carefully brought her to her feet. He steadied her for a moment and then went back to a defensive posture.

"They were about to beat up this old lady, Lieutenant, maybe kill her."

"Caje, you know we can't get involved." Hanley spoke firmly. "If she's a collaborator, you'll have to get out of the way."

"_Elle est une collaboratrice_?" Caje looked slowly across the faces of the townspeople in front of him. Not one of them would meet his eyes. "_Elle est une collaboratrice_?" he repeated, more insistently.

A man at the fringes of the crowd laughed scornfully, loud in the general stillness. "_Collaboratrice? Non! Ils pensent qu'elle est une sorcière_!"

"What did he say?" Hanley had gained some familiarity with French, but there were still a lot of words that puzzled him. "She's a cook? Did she poison someone?"

Caje bit back a grin. "Not _saucier_, Lieutenant. _Sorcière_. They think she's a witch."

"Witch?" Hanley exclaimed. "They do know we're in the 20th century, right?"

"I would have thought so," the scout said drily, "but you'd be surprised what people in small out-of-the way places believe." _And I've seen this before. Eh bien, have I ever …_

**Summer, 1927 – Louisiana Bayou Country**

Five-year-old Paul LeMay perched on the edge of his bed, focused hard on the shoelaces in his hands.

"Make two _lapin_ ears, then one _lapin_ goes around the tree and into the hole. Pull tight," he muttered. He tried to suit his actions to his words, but his hands slipped and once again, he had a tight knot instead of a neat bow. Disgusted, Paul tugged his shoe off and was ready to heave it across the room when he heard his father clear his throat behind him.

"I hope you're not planning to throw that, _'tit fils_."

Paul's shoulders sagged in disappointment. "I can't do this, _Papa_. I am a failure."

Denis tried to keep a straight face as he came into the room and took the shoe from the little boy. He didn't want to hurt his son's feelings. "Well," he said, as he worked to loosen the shoestrings, "you're not a failure at tying tight knots. Perhaps we can hire someone to tie your shoes for you."

"_Papa_!"

Denis handed the shoe back to his son. As Paul put it back on, he said patiently, "_Essayons encore une fois_." He put his arm around Paul and took his hands. "Slowly, now. Make two _lapin_ ears, t'en one _lapin_ goes around the tree and into the hole. Pull tight."

They had a perfect bow. "We did it!" Paul laughed, triumphant.

"Yes, we did." Denis untied the shoe. "Now you try it by yourself.

Paul concentrated and tried again. His tongue poked out between his teeth as he took the shoestrings in his hand. Denis heard him muttering the words under his breath and watched as the boy tied the shoe himself, successfully this time.

"I did it, _Papa_!" He hugged his father gleefully.

"See, you're not a failure. No one ever ties his shoes right the first time."

Paul stared up at his father, eyes round. "Not even you?"

Denis shook his head solemnly. "Not even me."

"Oh." Paul thought for a moment and then jumped down. "_Papa_, may I have my penny to go get some candy?"

Denis teased his son gently, "Well, I don't know." He pretended to think, "I suppose the champion shoe tier of the LeMay family deserves some reward." He pried a coin from the watch pocket of his vest and handed it to Paul.

"Yay!" Paul started to run out the door of his room, when he suddenly stopped, came back to his father and hugged him again. "_Merci, Papa_."

"_De rien_, Paul."

#

As Paul entered the settlement, he heard running footsteps behind him and turned.

"Paulie!"

"'Ey, T'eo!"

The two boys slung their arms around each other's necks and charged through the village. "I got my penny, Paulie! You?"

"Yep."

They went into the settlement's drugstore, passing a young woman who was exiting as they were coming in.

"_Bonjour, Mam'selle_ Lucille! _Bonjour, M'sieu'_ Sonnier!"

The young woman didn't reply, hurrying away with her head lowered, but the pharmacist beamed at them. _Bonjour_, Paul, T'eo. Come for your candy, have you?

"_Oui, M'sieu'_!" the boys chorused.

Well, _Mam'selle_ Yvonne will help you.

The woman nodded at the boys, but did not smile. What can I get for you?

They made their selections, handed over their pennies and left the store to find a quiet place to enjoy their weekly treat. Ahead of them, an elderly Creole woman, neither neat nor neatly dressed, shuffled slowly out of a house. Theo scowled.

"Who is that?" Paul whispered.

"_La Sagouine_."

"Who?"

"That's what I heard someone call her. She's a witch – that's what everyone says."

Paul considered the old woman, head to one side. "She doesn't look like a witch. She looks like she's nice."

"Paulie, you t'ink everyone's nice!"

The old woman turned to look at them. Theo refused to look at her, but Paul met her eyes and smiled. She turned away and moved slowly out of the settlement.

#

"_Nonc_ Pierre, do you believe in witches?"

Pierre LeMay glanced around the china cabinet he was working on. "What brought t'at on?"

"T'eo and I were in the settlement yesterday, and t'ere was this old woman t'ere. T'eo said lots of people t'ink she's a witch. He called her 'La Sogween', I t'ink.

"_La Sagouine_?"

"Uh-huh. That was it."

Pierre put down his chisel and hammer and dusted off his hands. "Paulie, people say a lot of things. It doesn't make them true." He sat down in front of his nephew and regarded him seriously. "She is what many people call a 'wise woman' – that's what '_La Sagouine_' means in French. She knows herb lore and things about nature that most of us never knew or have forgotten." He sighed. "There are a lot of people who believe in superstitions and they think what she knows and how she lives make her a bad person."

"But she's not?"

"I don't know, Paulie. I don't much else about her. But I've never heard anything bad about her that I could confirm. I've always given her the benefit of the doubt." He looked directly at his nephew. "Paulie, you and T'eo didn't say or do anything to her, did you?"

"No, sir!" Paul shook his head emphatically. "T'eo didn't like her, but I smiled at her. Papa says you shouldn't be mean to people."

"Your Papa's right about that."

"So t'ere aren't any witches?"

"Only on Halloween going trick-or-treating, as far as I know. Now, t'e sun is about to set and I see someone in front of me who needs to get home, don't I?"

"Yes, sir." He hugged his _nonc_ and went to the door.

"No witches," Paul muttered under his breath, to Pierre's amusement. _That almost sounds like disappointment._ He laughed and went back to work.

#

Paul liked the dark.

He moved smoothly and surely through the bayou. He had been back and forth between home and his _Nonc_ Pierre's house so many times that he traveled without paying attention. He knew the way without looking or thinking about it.

The young boy occupied his thoughts with how he would ask Papa for the jackknife he'd seen at the General Store when he was there Saturday with his _Maman_. _I can tie my shoes! Surely Papa can see I'm a big boy now and old enough to carry a knife! I'll be ahead of T'eo and Joe – and won't T'eo be mad! _He grinned, imagining his triumph over his best friend, when there was a burst of pain and everything went black.

#

The world slowly came back into focus for Paul. There was an odd scent in the air that he couldn't place, and nothing seemed familiar. "_Où suis-je_?"

"_Chut, p'tit. T'es chez moi_." The elderly woman spoke to him without turning. The firelight reflected off her dark skin.

Paul looked around. His eyes widened as he took in his surroundings. He was in a tiny one-room house. Herbs hung in bunches from the ceiling and a mixture Paul didn't recognize bubbled in the pot hung in the fireplace.

What happened?

You ran into a tree branch that had broke off de old cypress behind T'ibodeaux's.

Paul touched his forehead and hissed. That's why my head hurts.

_Oui_. I happened upon you. If you had been one of the other boys, I don't know if I would have stopped. But you smiled at me yesterday. You have kind eyes, _mon p'tit_, and a good heart, I think. I decided you were worth helping.

He smiled at her warmly. "_Merci, madame, pour votre aide_."

"_De rien, p'tit. Tu es le garçon de Denis et Annette LeMay, non_?"

"_Oui. Je suis Paul. Et ils vous appellent 'La Sagouine'_?"

_Oui, garçon_. That's what they call me. She bustled around the room, collecting a small pot and some cloths. She dipped one piece of cloth into a pail of clean water and dabbed at his head. Paul winced. Hold still, _p'tit_. It'll only hurt worse if you move. She cleaned the cut and bound a folded piece of cloth to his head after putting some of the mixture from the pot on it. There. Martin Lemesurier was passing by and I sent him for your _Papère_ LeMay. I know he's out in the bayou. You can go home with him.

They sat in a companionable silence for some time, and then there was a knock at the door. "_La Sagouine_?"

"_Oui_, Andre."

His grandfather entered, looking concerned. "_Paulie, es-tu bien_?"

Paul started to nod and then realized that probably wasn't such a good idea. "_Oui, Papère. Mais, ma tête est blesse._" He reached up and gingerly touched the bandage on his forehead.

Andre glanced at _La Sagouine_ sharply.

Don't worry, Andre. He's got a good hard LeMay head - like his Papère. He'll have a bit of a headache, but he'll be fine.

Andre picked Paul up. Let's go, Paulie. He nodded at the old woman. I haven't got anything today, but I'll be back.

I know you're good for it, Andre.

As Andre started back for the settlement, Paul asked him, What did you mean, you haven't got anything today, _Papère_?

Andre gazed at his grandson. _La Sagouine_ lives on what those she helps give her as payment.

Oh. He regarded his grandfather gravely. You'll give her something good?

Yes, I will, Paulie. Andre hugged the little boy. She helped someone very important to me.

#

The next day, Paul and Theo came back with Pierre and Marcel from a woodcutting expedition. Denis and Thierry were waiting for them on the dock, each with a shotgun cradled in his arms.

"_Papa_! Why do you have a gun?" Paul climbed quickly up his _nonc's_ ladder with Theo, Pierre and Marcel close behind.

His father put his hand on his head. How are you feeling, Paul?

I'm good, _Papa. Bonjour, M'sieu_' Thierry.

"Paulie." Thierry was atypically terse. He glanced at his son. Maybe they should stay here, Denis?

Pierre and Marcel exchanged glances, and Pierre spoke. What is it, Denis?

We've got trouble in the settlement, Pierrot. They had to call Father Michel in to give the rites to Lucille Lemesurier.

So the rumors were true, eh? Marcel asked grimly.

It certainly looks that way. They're saying she got something from _La Sagouine_ and it - Denis stopped and looked at Paul. - it did more than what it should have. They don't know if she'll live. Now they're after _La Sagouine_. It looks ugly.

Do they know for sure that's where she got it? Pierre questioned.

Martin says he is sure.

Pierre snorted. Martin. Half the time Martin Lemesurier doesn't know his own name, let alone what his daughter is doing. If he'd been doing his job as a father … His voice trailed off as he went in the house. He opened his gun safe, took out two shotguns and a bag of shells. When he came out, he handed one gun to Marcel along with some of the ammunition. We don't need hanging justice in this settlement. Already people think we Cajuns are a bunch of wild people who don't know how to act responsibly. Let's stop this before it gets out of hand.

_Papa_, what rumors? What happened to _Mam'selle_ Lucille?

Denis knelt and looked at his son. I can't explain now. Maybe one day, when you're older. Paulie, promise me that when we get back, you and T'eo will go straight home.

Paul and Theo looked at one another. Theo crossed his eyes quickly so that no one but Paul saw him. Paul bit his lip and crossed his fingers behind his back. _Oui, Papa_. I promise.

Marcel saw the boy's fingers, and catching Pierre's eyes, he gestured with his head at the young boy. Pierre came around to look and said sternly, Uncross your fingers! Paulie, T'eo, this is no joke!

I'm sorry, _Nonc_ Pierre. Paul lowered his head, disappointed. _Papa_, she was nice to me, _La Sagouine_. I want to help.

I understand, son. But you can't. He nodded to the others. Let's go.

By the time they returned to the settlement, it appeared that Pierre's fear of 'hanging justice' might just become a reality. There was a mob standing outside Sonnier's Pharmacy, angry faces reflecting the flickering light from the torches many were carrying. Amid the murmurs from the crowd could be heard calls of "witch", "hang her" and "burn her out".

Martin Lemesurier's voice carried above the crowd, exhorting them to violence.

Denis' face was grim. There won't be any strange fruit here if I have anything to say about it! The others nodded. Go, Paulie, T'eo! He shooed the boys away without looking. Do what you promised! Go home!

Paul and Theo ran in the direction of the LeMay house. Paul caught movement from the shadows in the corner of his eye and he stopped suddenly.

Paulie! You promised your Papa!

T'eo, look!

Theo realized that it was _La Sagouine_ hiding between two houses, hoping not to be seen.

I'm not gettin' in trouble for any old witch. Not even for you, Paulie.

Her eyes met Paul's and he saw tears sparkling there. He bit his lip. _I know I promised, Papa, but I can't just run away! _

You go home, T'eo. She helped me and if, if – I leave ...

He looked back to see that no one was watching him and went to her. He crouched down by the old woman and took her hand. I won't let them hurt you , he whispered.

There was a rustle behind Paul and he jerked around to see Theo standing there with a reluctant look on his face.

You don't have to stay, T'eo.

I gotta, Paulie. Who's gonna get you out of trouble if I don't? He punched Paul on the arm.

_Merci, mon frère_! The boys grinned at each other, and then pulled more deeply into the shadows in front of the herbwife as someone passed the entrance to their hiding place.

Andre stood on the fringe of the crowd with his old friend Jacques Dubois, both armed. Martin, if you had any sense, you'd know she wouldn't give your Lucille anything that would hurt her. Has anyone been hurt by her? Ever? You people should go home and let us work this out. Do we want people to know this settlement as a place where people cannot get justice?

Who made you God to set the world to rights, Andre? Or you, Jacques? _Maudit_ LeMays! And you Duboises are no better! Martin spat bitterly.

Lucien Hebert advanced on Andre, knife in hand. He had a coil of rope around his shoulder. Get out of our way, LeMay! We're going to find her and take care of her! We should have gotten rid of the witch long ago!

Pierre walked between his father and Lucien and fired into the air. He chambered another shell with a snap of his wrist and brought the gun back up to firing position. The mob was stunned into immobility.

The sound of shotguns being broken and loaded and rounds chambered was loud in the sudden silence. The other three men moved to stand by Pierre, Jacques and Andre, all them with their guns at the ready.

Pierre spoke up. You know Papa's right, Martin. If you weren't so drunk most of the time that you can't see straight, you would have realized what was going on with your daughter. You don't know that _La Sagouine_ had anything to do with what happened to Lucille. You shouldn't blame this on her when you have no proof. Stop it, now, before it gets out of hand.

Lemesurier's face was ugly with anger and grief. Pierrot, I thought you, of all people – after what you've been through …

Hebert spoke up. Of course, perhaps you have another interest in the matter. Did you know what Lucille was doing? Personally, perhaps? His voice was mocking, insinuating.

There was a collective gasp from the crowd and people moved away from Lucien.

Pierre was shaking with fury. His eyes were steely and his hands on his gun were clenched tight, the knuckles white. _Fils de putain_! That you think I have already forgotten those I lost! Don't dare to insult my Francie's memory, _salaud_.

Marcel put a hand on his friend's shoulder. Pierre relaxed slightly and nodded, but his eyes never left Hebert's.

A triumphant yell followed by a familiar voice shouting defiance focused everyone's attention down the street. Pierre and Denis exchanged terrified glances and ran toward the disturbance, Andre and the others close behind. Paulie!

No! You leave her alone! The small boy was standing defiantly in front of a cluster of three or four men who were grimly amused by the child's defense of the woman cowering behind him. François Hebert, Lucien's brother, swept Paul away, knocking him flat. One of the other men grabbed _La Sagouine_ by the arm, dragging her to her feet.

Theo ran forward and kicked François in the leg. You leave Paulie alone! He jumped back nimbly when Hebert swung at him as well.

Furious, Paul picked himself back up, nose bleeding and face scraped, prepared to do battle despite the odds. Pierre, who reached the boys first, scooped Paul up and handed him back to Denis. Theo saw his father and ran to him.

Paul shook with anger. I tried, Papa, but I couldn't stop them. He glared fiercely at the men holding the struggling old woman.

Ah, Paul, why didn't you take Theo and go home? Denis took out a handkerchief and gently wiped his son's face.

I couldn't, Papa. Paulie snapped his head up to look at his father. She was afraid and I couldn't leave her.

Denis sighed. He put Paul down and told him, Go back and stand with T'eo. We'll talk about this later.

Lucien Hebert pushed his way through the crowd, unstringing the rope as he came and tying it into a noose. Let's do what we came to do, eh? He slung the untied end of the rope over the nearest strong tree branch and wrapped it firmly around the trunk.

Marcel raised his gun. Stop, Lucien.

Allain Thibodaux startled him by stepping from the crowd and pushing the gun down. Leave it be, Marcel. You can't stop it. I'm not even sure you should. Murmurs in the crowd told the friends that the momentum had swung the other way. They could no longer be sure of carrying their point, guns or no guns.

Denis spoke up. Let the boys go home. They shouldn't have to see this.

François Hebert sneered. Your brat should have gone home when he was told, then, non? When we're done with her, he hitched his thumb over his shoulder at _La Sagouine_, maybe we should string up the little _coquin_ next for helping a criminal!

Andre's gun came up immediately. Anyone who puts one hand on my grandson won't have a hand to use any more!

You shoot someone, LeMay, and we'll string you up. Lemesurier sneered as he fought his way through the crowd to watch.

Lucien dragged a tree stump under the noose, and pulled the terrified old woman onto it. He put the noose around her neck and prepared to kick the stump away. Paul's angry tears and the harsh breathing of _La Sagouine_ were loud in the silence.

Two things happened at once: Lucien pushed the stump out from under the old woman, and Pierre brought up his gun and fired. The rope snapped under the shotgun blast and _La Sagouine_ fell to the ground.

Martin, enraged, ran at Pierre faster than Denis and the others could react, the Heberts right behind him. Lucien knocked Pierre to his knees, while François took his gun. You're never going to interfere with me again, LeMay. I promise that. Lucien backhanded Pierre across the face and stepped back.

As Andre started to move toward his son, François Hebert swung the gun that he'd taken from Pierre to cover him. No! Don't move. He glanced at the others. None of you move or I'll shoot Andre. François spoke over his shoulder to his brother. Kill him, Lucien.

No! _Nonc_ Pierre! Paul wailed.

Denis grabbed the boy as he tried to run to his uncle and turned him away from the scene.

Lucien reached for his knife just as another shotgun blast parted the mob.

"_Écoutez a moi! Arrêtez ce maintenant_!" Sheriff Breaux, accompanied by a sizeable posse, all armed, arrived. Lucien Hebert froze.

In the sudden stillness, there was a rustle in the crowd. A figure pushed its way through and came into the torchlight. It was Yvonne, the clerk from Sonnier's pharmacy. I came as quick as I could when I heard. She looked around at the assembled group scornfully. You are so quick to blame a woman. Men! Nobody figure out who the fat'er is, _non_? She pointed at Sonnier, who hovered on the fringe of the mob. He cowered back against his store. He the one been sneaking out with Lucille and when she tell him - , she caught movement out of the corner of her eye, and saw a curious Paul staring at her, _Mais_, you know what she told him. He t'ought he would be ruined and he was the one who gave her somet'in'. I saw him. _La Sagouine_, she got not'in' to do wit' it.

Sheriff Breaux faced down the crowd. "Did you all hear t'at? You were ready to kill an old woman on the word of a man – well, if Martin told you the sun was shinin', you'd go and look to be sure, you. But you listened to him on t'is. And you were ready to let him kill another man who you all know and trust, who fought for his country and had the courage to try to stop you. Somet'in to be proud of, _non_? Somet'in you want to tell the p'tits about, eh?"

People shuffled their feet. No one quite looked at anyone else.

Dat's what I t'ought. Go home, all of you.

The sheriff faced the LeMays and Duboises as Denis helped Pierre to his feet. "I guess I asked you all - including les p'tits - to be deputies and just forgot, eh? Fine. Now you're not deputies any more. Take your guns and go home." He shook his head. "Who you t'ink you all are? The Earps? You almost got killed, Pierrot."

Pierre wiped blood from his face. He broke and unloaded his gun, not looking at his family or his friends. For a moment, no one said anything. Paul pulled away from his father and wrapped his arms around his uncle's legs. Pierre put a shaking hand on his nephew's head silently.

"_Merci_." There was a whisper in the silence. The men looked at _La Sagouine_. She nodded toward Andre. "_Merci_. To you and Jacques. And your sons." The old woman bent to look Paulie in the eyes. "And you, _p'tit_. You have the heart of a lion, little one. I am proud to know you – and your friend who stood beside you even though he didn't think he should. T'ank you most of all."

"_De rien, madame_," Paul said gravely.

"Sheriff, I am going to my house. And I am not leaving this settlement." She moved through the posse slowly, head held high.

"You don't have to." The sheriff watched his men take the Heberts and Martin Lemesurier into custody.

Denis looked at each of the others in turn. "_Merci, Papa, M'sieu'_ Jacques, Thierry, Marcel." They nodded.

"Pierrot." He grasped his brother's arm and was surprised to find that his hands were still shaking. _Mon Dieu! I could have lost him! Thank you for not taking my brother._ Their eyes met. All the things they might have said aloud were spoken in that glance.

"_Toujours, mon frère. Je vous en prie_." Pierre sketched a salute to Denis.

Paulie smiled hesitantly at his uncle. "_Nonc_ Pierre, I'm glad you're all right."

Pierre nodded down at Paul. I'm proud of you, he said quietly to his nephew, and then left for the bayou and his home.

**France, 1944**

Caje called out to the assembled townspeople, Who accuses this woman? And of what?

The scout's interference had broken the small mob's momentum. Suddenly no one seemed eager to point a finger at the old woman.

The man who had spoken up earlier did so again. What don't they blame her for? The Germans, the weather, that there's no food. He faced the townspeople. Her only crime is not living as you think she ought. Admit it!

Then go home! Caje said sternly. Only cowards accuse others of things they haven't done.

The crowd broke up. The old woman looked up at Caje tremulously and nodded. Then she turned away, treading unsteadily, her cane tapping before her.

"Huh!" Kirby said dismissively. "She didn't even say 'Thank you!'"

"It's not about 't'ank you', Kirby." Caje watched her leave, remembering another old woman walking away.

"What is it about then, Caje?" Billy asked.

"Doing t'e right thing, I guess." _Yes, doing t'e right t'ing. No matter what._ He nodded to himself and wearily headed back to the village.

#


End file.
